Fever Part Two Both Sides of the Door
by suzee
Summary: This story begins at the end of Episode 4 of the TV Drama "Moonlight," starring Alex O'Loughlin as Mick St. John and Sophia Myles as Beth Turner. My story begins after Mick has had to feed in the desert--the one thing that will make his life unbearable--


"**Fever" Part Two -Both Sides of the Door**

_Note: Author claims no ownership of the characters in this story. All characters are the property of CBS, Warner Brothers and Silver Productions. This is a PG-13 rated fanfiction due to some language and adult situations. The story begins at the end of "Fever," Episode 4 in the "Moonlight" series, when Mick and Beth are both left at Mick's door after a day in the desert. . ._

"Mick, Mick, Mick, please be there, Mick, Mick. . ." It was her mantra as she drove, sped was more like it, wondering as she headed toward Mick's apartment why she felt such a strong need to see him again, and thinking how strange it had felt earlier when Josh made the comment about the two of them making a "good team." Why did that little reference to how well they worked together feel so wrong? And why had it felt so awkward with him when he touched her and kissed her cheek? Gosh! Hadn't she actually felt relieved when he'd finally left? From her window, she'd waved and watched him drive away, and then she'd hastily grabbed her purse and keys and headed straight for her car. Now, as she hurried to get to Mick, she felt tormented by the mixed feelings whirling around inside of her—confusion, anticipation, fear. . .

On his street, she hastily pulled her car over to the curb, grabbed her purse and took off running, locking the vehicle with her fob as she sprinted toward the double door of Mick's building.

Slightly breathless, she burst through the doors, ran to the elevator and pounded hard on the "Up" button with her fist, wondering if she should just forget waiting for the thing, thinking that maybe she should take the stairs, but momentarily the doors opened before her, and soon she was on Mick's floor.

"BE there, Mick! Please, please, be there!" She said the words softly under her breath, in time to her footsteps, heels clicking, echoing off of the polished surface of the empty hallway floor. At last she was at his door, and without hesitation, she knocked and waited, suddenly wondering why she had been in such a rush to get here, feeling her stomach rolling and quaking as she stood in the dim corridor, knowing he'd see her on his monitor if he came to the door, certain he'd welcome her in, once he knew it was her who waited to see him!

Standing there at his door, she felt a mixture of anxiety, impatience and a kind of queasiness in her belly, and for a moment she considered turning around and going back home, but she really wanted to see Mick, so she stayed, touching her ear to the shiny surface of the door. She tried to hear him inside, knowing that was impossible, yet she was somehow very keenly aware of him in a way she didn't understand at all. Still breathing a bit too fast from running, she leaned firmly against the metal and swore that she could feel him on the other side, and the eeriness of that sensation made her wonder if she was losing her mind! Maybe the blood loss was somehow affecting her brain? That might explain why she felt so strange--her thoughts were racing at a speed akin to her accelerated heartbeat as flashes of the day's events reminded her that this had been no ordinary day, and now it was clearly affecting her, both physically and emotionally. Closing her eyes only made the phenomenon worse, and as she waited for him, she began to wonder if she'd done the right thing by coming here in such an agitated state. It's just that the need to see Mick had been so compelling that she hadn't been able to resist it, although now, in the cool light of the hallway, the mere thought of seeing him made her shiver, but not because she was cold.

Mere seconds had passed, but she felt as if she'd been waiting for an eternity, and she wondered what was taking him so long. "Mick!" her mind cried again, hoping to summon him, growing more and more anxious as time ticked on, wondering where he could be, fearful that he might still be suffering the effects of the desert heat, thinking he might have gone to his freezer to recover, agonizing about what to do and wishing he'd simply open the damn door!

It had been a very bad day for him, no doubt about that, but when she'd left him a few hours ago, he'd seemed perfectly okay. Now she wondered and fretted, knowing that he was nocturnal, and unless something was wrong, he really should be up. She took in an audible breath, and as she blew it out, a disturbing notion came to her mind, so upsetting that she quickly dismissed it, only to have it come back again and nag her. She really didn't think it was possible, but, then again, he wasn't answering the door, so maybe—but no, it couldn't be, but--there it was. Doubt. She let the thought voice itself—'What if Mick didn't want to see her?' Surely that wasn't possible—he'd never just ignore her, especially after what she'd done for him today! But he had seemed strangely distant toward her afterward, like he was embarrassed, or maybe ashamed of what he'd done. She wasn't sure at the time why he'd acted that way, but now a niggling doubt nibbled at her confidence like a termite in fresh wood. As she tried to eject the thought, the cool metal beneath her forehead began to feel eerily warm, warmer than her skin temperature, and she tried to blow it off as an overactive imagination, but then, she wondered if possibly she had a fever?

He felt her approaching before he heard her, so her first knock on his door shouldn't have startled him, but it did. He sat as though frozen, and when she knocked a second time, the sound jarred him out of his state of inertia, causing him to jerk slightly, as if he'd been shocked back to reality, and he hesitated for several seconds, getting his bearings, before rising to go to the door. His long legs unfolded slowly beneath him, inching him upward from where he'd been sitting in the dark, thinking about today, trying NOT to think about today, having no luck at all, and now Beth was here. He slid as stealthily as a shadow to the door, knowing before he looked that Beth's face would be there in his monitor. His reluctance to see her was strange to him; normally he felt himself light up at the mere sight of her, and he hated that things had changed now, to the point where he didn't even want to open the door to let her in!

Well, truth be told, he didn't want her questions, didn't want to try to explain everything, and, most of all, he wanted to forget what he had done to her. He stood inches from her now, and though the door was between them, he swore he could almost feel her breath on his face, and that was unsettling. His insides were churning with uneasy feelings, feelings so upsetting that he couldn't even look at her in the monitor without cringing, knowing he'd shown her today that he truly was a monster, and that, to him, was unbearable. He put his arm up on the door, leaning his head against it, noting with surprise that the metal beneath him felt oddly warm. He felt his body respond physically to her in an unfamiliar way, wanting to be near her, yet knowing he couldn't be, and he was overwhelmingly sad for what he feared he had ruined—the easy friendship between the two of them, for one, but worse, he felt he had violated her trust. It was strange, he thought, for a vampire to feel such human torments, and he knew with certainty that she alone could make him feel this way.

Gradually, his awareness of the warmth beneath his arm became proof that the heat emanated from her, even though at least three inches of bullet-proof, soundproof heat-resistant material separated them. With his eyes closed, it seemed he felt her even more intensely; so much so that he not only heard, but actually felt the strong, rapid beat of her very living heart, and he knew that it must be her blood in his veins that allowed him to sense her so acutely. He was powerfully drawn to her with every thrum of life that pulsed through her, and he had the feeling that his own body now somehow ticked to a rhythm that was completely in sync with hers. He silently groaned, not wanting to feel this connection to her, but knowing that a bond had been forged today--one that could not be easily broken—if ever—and that scared him to the very center of his being.

As he agonized over his regret about what he had done today, a strong craving for more of her hit him, making him wonder how it could be that taking her blood had made him feel even more parched and ravenous than he'd felt when he was dying? Rather than quenching his thirst, her blood had somehow triggered the unfamiliar response of his early years as a vampire, when wanting something so badly meant he'd kill for it—but now that was not an option, and though the old instinct frightened him a bit, he knew he would hold firm in his resolution never to return to that life! But she tempted him! That was an undeniable fact, and this particular temptation filled him with a desire for so much more than blood, and that was a craving he could never, ever satisfy, so he knew—he had to let her go.

On the other side of the door, Beth continued her mantra as her knees began to feel wobbly and her heart continued to pound. "Mick, please, open the door, Mick please, oh please. . ." she whispered under her breath, knowing her words were not audible to human ears, but sure he'd hear her, if only he were home! Though she didn't mean to sound desperate, that's exactly what she was, and there was no help for it now. She needed to see him, and the longer she waited, the more pressing that need became.

Mick actually flinched as he heard her whisper his name. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he still could vividly see her as she'd been today, alone with him in that terrible place. At first he'd thought she was an angel who had come either to save him or usher him to the other side, but then angels weren't as beautiful as Beth! He had seen the distress and concern in her face when, terrified that she'd arrived too late, she had pulled him out of the water, frantically calling his name. When he had responded, she'd smiled at him, even though he was near death, "delicate flower" that he was! He could feel her anxiety pouring out of her as she'd offered her blood to him, and just the thought of biting her had been so repugnant that he hated himself for even thinking of giving in to the urge.

Oh, not that he hadn't thought of biting her! Hell, he was a vampire so of course he'd thought of it—imagined it—dreamed of it. Her unique scent was always welcome and inviting, and he sometimes had to fight to keep his inner vampire under control around her. Sure, biting Beth was his fantasy, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought he'd do it in a place like that, under circumstances that were desperate instead of loving and sensual. Sensual, oh God! He could recall perfectly her sweet-spicy taste on his lips as his fangs had pierced her tender flesh, as he had let the warm, life-giving liquid pulse from her into his mouth, letting it run deliciously over his tongue and down his throat, giving his body new life as he felt the inevitable connection to her happening with each swallow of her blood. Instinctively, he licked his lips now, remembering the sensory explosion that had torn through him as he took in her scent and her savory flavor, as he'd listened to her heart beating wildly within her, knowing she was scared, yet somehow excited as well, staying so still for him in wonder and terror as he had extracted the life he needed from her.

His gut twisted and he felt a distinct pull in his groin as he remembered the touch of her breasts against him as she had leaned on him while she let him feed. Her blood had been both resuscitating and intoxicating, and damn, but he had not wanted to stop! She was the one who had made him let go, and though he regretted having to withdraw from her, he'd done so as soon as she had asked, thankful for her gift, but sorry he'd had to take it. He'd licked her wound and told her to wrap a towel around her arm, and as she followed his instructions, he'd had to lie back down in the brackish water, closing his eyes as he let the new life force he'd ingested wash over and through him, warming and thrilling him, bringing him back from the fever of death to the normal flame of life which burned within him still, because of _her. _

He'd immediately known he would live, but no sooner had he rejoiced in his new-found strength than the guilt of what he'd done hit him solidly, like a blast of silver buckshot to the chest, and now he had to contemplate how he would cope with his actions. He had fed from her, taking from her the one thing that he needed to save his life, but knowing he'd never be able to undo the damage caused by that one act of self-preservation. He cringed again with remorse, and instantly the familiar yawning, aching emptiness that lived inside of him had reminded him that he couldn't have her—he wasn't human, and monsters simply didn't get to have 'happily ever after!'

Still, the old refrain that tormented him so often kept going through his head over and over, like a song that wouldn't go away, a fly buzzing in his ear, unwanted, unrelenting and cruel, whispering: _'What if you've always been connected somehow?' _As much as he wished that were possible, that maybe the Universe had sent her into his life to save him from this longing and regret, he knew it was impossible. He turned and walked several paces from the door, knowing absolutely that above his own wants and needs, he had to protect her, and unfortunately, just being near him put her in danger.

Beth stood alone in the empty hallway looking at Mick's door. She'd had to back away to think because being so close to him, his place, made her mind fuzzy, but now, standing several feet from the door, she could once again feel and see the events of the day clearly, from the profound grief that had overtaken her when she'd heard that Mick and Leni were dead, to her joy at finding out they were alive, to the panic she'd felt when she had seen how sick Mick was, to the fear of the unknown when she had offered him her blood in her overwhelming need to save him. She simply couldn't have lost him again! But she wondered what would have happened if he hadn't stopped feeding—he was so strong—and she'd had to shout at him and pound on his back to make him pull his fangs back. As scary as that had been, she vividly remembered the odd tingle of excitement that had gone through her the second she had felt him bite her, and now recalling that time made her tremble with a strange longing, though she was afraid to know why. Unable to stay away, she went back and leaned against the door once more.

Scenes of the day ran through Mick's head like a YouTube video. He'd been so far gone by the time Beth had pulled him out of the cold water that he was hallucinating, not sure she was real, thinking he had killed Leni, desperate in his thirst for blood! She'd had no idea of the danger she was in, and he hadn't told her, and now the guilt and remorse washed over him like a rogue wave, carrying him to an unending sea of regret.

By all rights, he should have died, and it was easy to think dying would have been better, considering how this had turned out. Earlier, in his solitary reverie, he had resolved that this "thing" between them must not be nurtured—it had to stop, right here and right now! He walked back over to the door, this time finding he couldn't tear his eyes away from the monitor where he saw her face, saw her waiting, and it was as if he could feel her thoughts, now very perceptible to him, a jumble of confusion, relief and worry. His eyes began to sting with the pain of knowing what he had done, and of all the people in the world, he had done it to HER, the last person on earth he'd ever willingly harm.

Out in the hallway, Beth sighed, resigned to the fact that he wasn't home. Deflated, she turned and looked down the empty hallway to the elevator, not wanting to leave, knowing she should go, finding herself in an unfamiliar quandary, aware of the fact that she had to leave, yet wanting desperately to stay because she knew he'd have to return sometime, and she wanted so badly to talk to him! Mentally dousing herself with the cold reality that he simply wasn't home, she shrugged, squared her shoulders, whispered his name and began to walk toward the elevator.

Her speaking his name, even in a whisper, hit Mick in the gut as surely as a well-aimed punch, and she had nailed him many times over the past several minutes! Aching to see her, he reached out to the door latch, not really thinking, but acting on impulse, and as he touched the handle, he snapped back to the realization that he couldn't open the door! He shook his head in frustration. Hadn't he resolved just a moment ago that he simply couldn't risk seeing her tonight? Everything was still too fresh, too recently changed, too messed up. He couldn't let her in! Not into his apartment, not into his life, not into the empty space inside of him that had waited for years to find someone like her. It was better this way, he told himself. Better to let her go.

Her footsteps fell quietly now as she walked slowly back to the elevator. She wondered why she felt so desperately disappointed. All she wanted was to ask him some questions! Well, no, she had to admit to herself, it was more than wanting answers to questions--it was that she very much wanted to see him. She found herself punching the "Down" button with a bit too much force as her frustration made itself evident in this small act.

Resisting the urge to let her in took nearly all of Mick's restraint. He had to wonder why this was happening now? Why had she shown up at this particular time, after he'd spent so many years reconciling himself to the fact that he would always be alone? Maybe she did deserve to know the truth of what had happened between them today, but if he let her in at this moment, craving her as he did, what would happen? Would he blurt out something totally inappropriate? Something like how much he cared for her? Like maybe how often he wondered if there was a possibility that they could work this out between them? His stomach lurched again at the thought of telling her how he felt. She'd be horrified and he'd be embarrassed beyond belief! Just thinking about a future with her might be a temporary salve on the wound inside of him, but the reality was that having her wasn't possible. As he pondered that reality, his heightened senses began detecting that something was amiss, and he suddenly realized that he couldn't feel her anymore--she was gone. Her heat had disappeared, and without it, he felt oddly cold, which wasn't possible for a vampire, but was nevertheless true. In a bit of a panic, he had to admit to himself that, as far as Beth was concerned, he was already in too deep; in fact, he was so closely connected to her that he was sure she made him want to keep living, and with that being the case, he couldn't let her simply walk away without seeing her.

Giving no thought to what he was doing, he reached out with one hand and pulled open the door, knowing she was gone, but sure that he could find her. Relief rolled over him as soon as he saw her standing with her back to him in the low-lit hallway, waiting for the elevator. Without a moment's hesitation, moving at vamp speed, he headed straight for her, reaching her in an instant, causing her to jump and nearly lose her balance from fright and surprise. He caught her by the arms, keeping her from falling over.

"I'm sorry, Beth! I shouldn't have startled you like that!" She pulled away from his hold on her and stood her ground, even though his touch had caused such a nuclear reaction within her that she almost worried she'd blow smoke in his face as she breathed.

"Oh gosh—Mick! I. . .I thought maybe you weren't home. I, ah, don't mean to. . ." Beth suddenly felt tongue-tied as her heart pounded, as she looked up at him, gazing into his dark, swirling eyes, feeling him so close and wondering why that should make her suddenly so light-headed. Maybe it truly was the effect of losing a good deal of her blood today?

"Hey, Beth!" He said, bending down, looking at her, holding her by one arm, since she appeared to him as though she might faint. "Beth, are you all right?"

His voice was soft, yet penetrating, and it seemed to make her brain vibrate, but not in a bad way.

"Yes," she practically whispered, nodding, "I don't want to bother you. . ." she was almost bending over, trying to catch her breath! What was this strong reaction to him?

Mick held onto her firmly, wondering if she was having some kind of delayed reaction to her blood loss. He felt the urge to sweep her up into his arms and carry her to his apartment, but instead spoke to her:

"You aren't. . .um, I mean, you aren't disturbing me," he said quietly, pulling her up to face him, piercing her with his gaze as he let go of her arm, finding himself lost in her eyes. "Come on back--inside—if you want to—that is."

His eyes held her captive and she felt flustered and tingly. "Oh, uh. . .are you sure? I mean, I could just. . ."

'Geez!' she thought, horribly embarrassed by her newly acquired inability to speak. She was acting like a tongue-tied school girl! Why was her heart racing so fast, and why couldn't she put a coherent sentence together? This was not at all like her. For goodness' sake, she was a reporter; calm, objective, and why was her face flushing? She was extremely glad that the lighting in the hallway was dim. Maybe Mick wouldn't notice her discomfiture. She shook her head slightly to clear it, then tried again: "I don't know why I'm here, Mick—I really should go."

She turned from him and pushed the elevator button again, wondering where in hell the damn thing was.

Mick reached out and quickly covered her hand with his. For some reason, this action caused them both to jerk slightly as the shock of touching, skin-on-skin, created a tangible reaction, not unlike being served a small jolt of static electricity. He noticed that she trembled under his touch and felt his own muscles quiver in response.

"Beth, don't leave." It was a plea, spoken softly but in a timbre that resonated inside of her head like a low cello note held long enough to cause a vibration, which she felt run downward through her entire body, causing a sensation that was not at all unpleasant. She couldn't have looked away from his eyes if she'd been set on fire.

"You were right to come to me," he continued. "Beth--I can. . .I need to help you understand. . .what happened today. . .in the desert." He hadn't moved his hand; it still covered hers, and he was encouraged that she hadn't pulled away from his touch. Again he felt the powerful connection between them as their eyes held each other immobile, and it surprised him that his reaction to her was not at all that of a vampire, though she felt and smelled delicious, but rather this attraction, for want of a description, was more—human? It was as if in this moment, he was simply a normal man touching the hand of a beautiful woman. He tried to be subtle as he took in her womanly scent and felt himself wanting her—not for her blood, but for HER.

Beth was somewhat surprised that his hand on hers felt warm, and she realized her nerves were making her cold, yet she felt somehow calmed just touching him, though she was puzzled by the buzz of electricity that seemed to charge the air around them. Maybe a storm was on the way, she thought, but wondered why that would make her heart flutter in her chest like the wings of a hummingbird in a confined space. She watched as he lifted his hand from hers, surprised at how immediately she felt the absence of his touch, and she shivered involuntarily, suddenly feeling chilled. He stood next to her, his hand outstretched, waiting for her to take it, which she did, and then he turned her smoothly with one arm around her back, and led her toward his open door.

Once he had pulled her over the threshold, he closed the door behind them and led her to his sofa, nodding, indicating that she should sit. Reluctantly she removed her hand from his and sat where he indicated. She clasped her freezing cold hands together in her lap, feeling him tower above her, and she was afraid to look into his eyes again, fearing that maybe she'd not be able to look away this time. Something about Mick had changed, and frankly, it made her uneasy. He was her friend, but now, for some reason, she was reacting to him in a way that was entirely new to her.

Mick saw that her hands were in a white-knuckle grip, and he knew she was scared and confused. He heard the wild pounding of her heart, could feel her distress, and suddenly a wave of tenderness flowed through him, and he thought back to the time when she had trusted him so completely that even though he was a dark stranger, she had come into his arms, a frightened child, putting those hands around his neck and allowing him to lead her from danger. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought that just being here with her, he might be leading her directly into a danger she couldn't even comprehend! She was fidgeting now, and he saw that her gaze had shifted to the floor.

He asked her softly, "How about a glass of water? Or tea?" She didn't speak. "Beth?"

"Oh! Uh, yes. . .I mean, ah, water would be good, thank you." He noticed that she had allowed her eyes to make contact with his for only a second before they darted back to stare at her hands which still looked startlingly white against the dark blue denim of her jeans.

"I'll just be a second," he said as he left her to fetch the glass of water from his kitchen. Momentarily he headed back, pausing only for a few seconds to turn on his fireplace. He set the drink on the coffee table within her reach, then settled himself onto the couch, leaving a good two feet of space between them as he leaned back and crossed his legs, resting one foot on his knee. He slid his right arm across the back of the sofa, leaving his hand dangling, his ring sparkling in the low overhead lights.

Beth looked at his hand, trying to avoid his piercing gaze, and wondered why she had never noticed his hands before, how perfectly formed and strong they looked, his nails neatly filed. The ring he wore on his right index finger was exquisite, and she made a mental note to ask him sometime how he could wear silver. She picked up her glass and nervously drank her water in gulps, keeping her eyes focused on the ring, because to look into his eyes was to lose herself in them, and she very much felt a need to keep her wits about her right now! She wondered if the ring had a meaning. This vampire stuff was hard to understand, and she really didn't want to know any more than was necessary, since today her lesson had been almost more than she could handle!

Mick watched her drinking her water, obviously on edge, clearly trying to keep her eyes from connecting with his. He discerned her worrying about being here with him, all alone now, and he knew she was wondering why she'd come here at all! She looked as if she were getting ready to bolt, and he wished he could rewind to yesterday, when she wasn't scared of him. He noticed how her hair sparkled in the light of the fire and he thought it made her beauty even more magical, the fair haired innocent in the lair of a beast who wanted nothing more than to devour her in every way possible. He forced himself to remember why she was here and put his mind to setting her at ease.

"I need to thank you for saving my life today, Beth," he said gently in his low-pitched voice. He tried in vain to catch her gaze, tilting his head downward, looking up at her face, hoping he could soothe her somehow.

She choked on the water she had been swallowing, and began to cough. Trying to be helpful, Mick reached over and patted her firmly on the back as she spluttered and coughed. After a minute, she caught her breath and began to relax.

"Are you okay now?" he asked her as his hand moved up and down her back in an effort to comfort her. He could sense her fear and confusion, and he was genuinely sorry that he was the cause of her distress, though he was thoroughly enjoying the feel of her warm, living body under his hand.

Beth was highly aware of his hand touching her, and even though it was comforting, it also felt a little bit too intimate at the moment. She nodded her head. "I'm fine. Sorry." She leaned forward, away from his touch, and looked him in the eyes again.

His eyes held hers steadily. "Are you really okay, Beth?" He was now leaning toward her and his voice, though soft, still held that vibrating timbre that seemed to cut through to her soul. She thought for a second that his voice could easily hypnotize her, like the snake in the Disney cartoon about the little wild boy, and for a split second her mind entertained the flash of an image of him wrapping himself around her like the python around its intended victim. Omigod! she thought, shaking her head, trying to get that visual out of her mind!

"I. . .I 'm sorry—wh-what did you say?"

Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated in the dim light, and Mick had a hard time convincing himself he shouldn't simply lean over and kiss her. Instead, he said softly, "I asked if you're okay."

His eyes didn't blink as he spoke, and somewhere in her brain she registered the fact that his question wasn't about her choking on the water as much as he was asking her how she was now, after this crazy day, after he had taken her blood!  
Her body jerked as she made herself stop looking into his eyes. Miraculously, she didn't spill her water, and her mind, as if alerted to her precarious situation, kicked into full gear, and with it came clarity—and anger.

"Am I okay? Mick? Maybe you know more about that than I do!"

His face took on a peculiar expression, she thought; a combination of guilt and something else.

He saw that her eyes were flashing and she seemed mad about the entire ordeal, and though he didn't blame her, he was caught enough off guard with her sudden question that he was rendered temporarily speechless. His mouth gaped.

"What?" She glared at him now, beginning to feel extremely irritated and strangely jumpy, as if she were the canary within reach of the cat. "Do you really want an answer to that question? Am I OKAY?"

He merely held out both hands in surrender.

"The truth is, Mick, I'm not at all sure that I'm okay!"

He noticed that all of a sudden she was looking at him as if he had just asked her if she planned to grow a beard and join the circus. Her look clued him into the train of her thoughts, and he braced himself for a tirade. Beth was beautiful and sweet, but she was also feisty and had a reporter's tendency toward inquisition. He almost flinched under her scrutinizing stare.

"Talk to me, Beth." He said it calmly, in the low register that he hoped would help to settle her down, but from observing her body language, guessed his voice and demeanor had not worked the magic he'd hoped for.

"You know, I have a feeling you know perfectly well why I don't know if I'm okay! I don't know what all happened today beyond the fact that I became your blood donor! I'm feeling upset and confused, and yet, I'm so relieved you aren't dead that I feel like I could cry. . .again!" She stopped, breathing fast, trying to slow down and gain some composure. Mick withdrew his arm from behind her, placing both hands in front of him, forming a sort-of upside-down heart with his thumbs and fingers on the legs of his jeans.

He looked back at her and couldn't miss the distress that telegraphed straight to his conscience—it was in her eyes, all over her face, and in the way she held her body so stiffly, and he again felt the stab of a guilty conscience. Still, it was so easy to look at her, to let himself get lost in those impossibly blue eyes that were hurling bits of anger towards him now like clods of liquid fire thrown from a catapult.

"Well, I have you to thank for the fact that I'm not dead!" He saw her reach for her water with an unsteady hand.

"Thank God." She took a small sip of her water this time, then looked back into his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Beth. I know I'm the reason you're upset now, but if you'll recall, I did tell you to leave me at the motel and just take Leni back home. . ."

She cut in, not allowing him to finish his thought. ". . .And you would have died! Mick! I couldn't just leave you there to die!" The look she shot him almost knocked him over.

"I've told you, Beth, I'm a vampire—I'm already dead, in a sense! One less vampire in this world wouldn't make a whole lot of difference to anyone!" He leaned back and held his hands out to each side and shrugged.

"To ME it would make a difference." Her words hit him like a bucket of water over the head, and he jerked back for a second from the sheer impact of her declaration. What was she saying? That she cared for him? Of course she'd care—Beth was a generous person! What she had done for him was something innate to her—she would have come to the aid of anyone in need—that was Beth. He couldn't allow himself to take her words too seriously, because to do that, well, that would mean that. . .

"Mick, look at me," she said in a low but serious voice. She watched as his eyes moved from some point far behind her head back to her gaze. "When I heard that you were dead today, I was devastated, and as I sat alone, crying, all I could think of was that I'd lost you, and that it was my fault for asking Josh to hire you, and if I hadn't, you'd still be here, and I wanted you here!" She got quiet and raised her eyebrows at him. Then she spoke very softly but enunciated each word slowly and clearly: "I happen to like the world better with you in it."

Mick was struck again, first by the knowledge that she had actually cried for him, and then that she liked the world better with him in it? He rubbed a hand over his face and gave her a look that pierced her heart. "You actually cried when you thought I was dead?"

"Of course I did! Mick. . ." As her look cut him to the quick, her eyes began to get misty as she recalled the shock of that terrible news. She was quiet and leaned back against the couch, feeling light-headed again. "Friends cry for friends when they die you know! It's a quaint custom we humans have!"

Mick was completely taken aback and was silent, stunned by what she was saying, yet he was also elated. He blew out a long breath as she began to speak again.

"At least I thought we were friends!" She turned her head and shot him an accusing glance.

The look she was giving him demanded that he speak, and he gathered his wits quickly. "We are! Friends, I mean!" He exhaled loudly. "Beth, I've told you before, I have never told any other human the things I've told you! You are my friend and I trust you!"

"Well, just so you know, I don't have so many friends that I can leave one dying in the desert. Mick—I had no choice. So, when Josh told me you were dead. . ."

"Josh told you I was dead?" He looked a little confused. "Why did he tell you I was dead?" 'Yeah, probably wished I was dead!' he thought to himself. Funny how he had definitely felt like he and Josh were two alpha males in a pissing contest over Beth this morning.

"Well, I was in his office when someone called him and said you and Leni had stolen a police car, and it had been hit by some kind of bomb or something, and that it went up in flames, and they said you and Leni were dead, and I. . .I. . ."

Mick slid over to her and took her gently into his arms, sensing her tears were close to spilling over, enjoying the feel of her warm body against him as she put her arms around him, clinging. Her breath was sweet and warm on his skin, and he was acutely aware of everything about her, especially now that her blood was part of him. This bond they shared allowed him to feel the agony and grief she had experienced upon learning that he had been killed, and once again he was both surprised and guilt-ridden. She had felt that grief for him—for HIM—before she had even given him her blood! Instinctively his arms tightened around her, and he felt warm tears wet the soft cotton of his shirt where she cried as she remembered the moments that had stretched into hours, thinking she had lost him forever, still not sure why it made so much difference to her. He felt her thoughts and was touched in a place deep inside of himself that was warming and thawing after years of being icy cold.

"Oh, Beth," he breathed onto the top of her head. She felt the words rumble deep in his chest, her ear against him as his breath kissed her hair. She felt him speak her name in a way that came from a place within him that was hidden to all but her. She wasn't sure how she knew this, but it felt good, as did his arms which held her in a way that seemed eerily familiar and sweetly tender, and for a second she felt like a child, safe from danger in Mick's arms. Once again, tears threatened to spill over, and she clutched him even more tightly, then felt him kiss the top of her head. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of him as she inhaled the scent of him, a heady mix of his cologne, the faint essence of fabric softener, and a lot of the masculine aroma that was all Mick. It was intoxicating, and she drank it in, not sure why she suddenly wanted to stay right here in his arms where she felt comforted and strangely at home. Slowly she let herself melt into his embrace.

Mick felt her relaxing as he held her, even though his own emotions ran rampant because simply to hold her like this was a miracle to him, and furthermore, she had just admitted that she had strong feelings for him—strong enough to make her cry when she thought of losing him. However, as right as it felt to hold her, Mick knew that this "thing" between them wasn't meant to be, no matter how much he wished for it. He couldn't let this go beyond tonight, but right now, he didn't want to let go of her. She fit so perfectly under his chin—it was almost as if she were made for him. . .

That thought made him ache again inside, and he realized that what he was feeling was more than appreciation for her heroic act today, but it was stronger--something very akin to—love? That thought scared the crap out of him, and he quickly but gently disentangled himself from her and backed away, sorry for causing the confused look she gave him, wondering why he suddenly felt cold and empty again when she was still right here, just not in his arms.

She felt him pull away, and the sudden space that had opened up between them made her shiver with cold. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warm, astonished at the strong reaction she felt from his withdrawal.

"What's happening, Mick?" Her eyes were wide, he noted, and salty tear tracks marked the lovely, fair skin of her cheeks. She was holding herself, arms wrapped around her body as if trying very hard to stay warm.

"Are you cold?" he asked her, seeing her trembling. She nodded, and he got up, pulling open the top of a leather ottoman, reaching in and coming up with a beautiful, old-looking hand-stitched quilt in muted colors of tans, browns and cream colors. He draped it over her shoulders and she looked at it, fascinated. How would a vampire acquire such a piece of practical art? It looked as if it were an antique to boot!

"Does that help?" he asked, sitting down beside her again.

"Yes!" she breathed, looking at the quilt with the eyes of someone admiring the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. "Mick--Where did you get this quilt?"

Her eyes were gazing at him with wonder, and her eyebrows were raised in anticipation of an answer she didn't expect, which was exactly what she heard.

He smiled wistfully. "My mother made it for me when I was pretty young. It was on my bed when I was growing up."

Beth could not have been more surprised if Mick had told her he was a Martian. "I can't believe it! You had this when you were a little boy? It looks a hundred years old!"

"Close!" He was amused, she could see that much. What she couldn't see was how it warmed him inside to watch her wear his mother's hand-sewn quilt with reverence and awe.

"It's wonderful! I'm not sure what you know about quilt-making, but these stitches are so tiny and so even!" He watched as her fingers caressed the fabric, and his mind momentarily wandered to a place where he could see those beautiful fingers touching him, caressing him intimately, feeling so amazingly warm on his skin. . ."

"Mick?" Hearing his name jarred him back to reality. What was he thinking? This was an impossible situation!

"Yeah, Beth. . .I'm, um, I'm glad you like it because it means a lot to me. I don't have much from when I was young and lived with my family, but I kind of treasure that quilt. It looks good on you."

She noted that he no longer looked amused; in fact, he looked dead serious, but even worse, he looked drop-dead gorgeous, his eyes seriously peering into her soul, and she didn't know how to process this insane pull she felt drawing her to him. Josh was her boyfriend, for Heaven's sake! She couldn't possibly feel an attraction for Mick St. John, a man she hadn't ever really thought of that way, though he was a man, and that was something she couldn't deny. Neither, apparently, could her body, which was responding to him in a crazy, unfamiliar way. She looked at his face, so perfect and caring and a little warm spot began to grow in her heart for this man who had saved her life once, who had saved Leni today, who would obviously give up his life for someone in trouble. She looked down and rolled her eyes, thinking again of Josh and how Mick had saved the most important case of his career, and now what? Her conscience plagued her as she tried to conjure an image of Josh in her mind, but she was here with Mick, and she felt so close to him, and the sensations were suddenly so overwhelming that she didn't know whether to jump into his lap or get up and go home! All of her thoughts were muddled and horribly conflicted!

Mick's hand came down on her knee before she could move a muscle to leave. He clearly sensed her state of emotional upheaval and with his touch, he tried to project a feeling of safety and serenity. When he felt her relaxing under his hand, he asked the question that hung between them.

"Why did you come here tonight, Beth? You came to me for answers, so tell me what you want to know."

She hesitated, and he simply waited for her to speak, watching her face intently. "Well, you can tell me what happened in that Motel Hell out there, for one thing." She stopped, not sure of how to say what she was feeling.

He saw her uncertainty, so spoke the truth simply: "I drank your blood, but you're right--there's more to this than your saving my life." He saw her surprise at his words, yet knew they rang true in her ears. "Talk to me, Beth. It's just me. Tell me what's bothering you."

His voice was deep and soft, and again she felt herself trusting him in a way she'd never trusted anyone. She looked at him, and seeing him peering intently at her, she stopped and took a breath, trying to get her thoughts together in some kind of coherent order.

"Okay, " she began, noting that his intense gaze was telling her it was all right to say what was on her mind; that he'd understand, and he'd help her understand as well. "Ah, well, tell me this, Mick. . ." she halted, feeling somewhat like a fly in a spider web. His eyes! She felt as if she might drown in them!

"Tell you what, Beth?" His voice was almost a whisper, and his face had gotten very much closer to hers. She looked at his lips, perfect and kissable, and she thought about how his lips had felt on hers when she had kissed him that night in the parking lot, and now. . .NO! She shook her head and instinctively backed up on the couch, lowering her eyes to escape his direct stare. As she avoided looking at him, she fleetingly wondered once again if he was trying to hypnotize her! Did vampires do that? She didn't know, and she didn't want to ask, and suddenly she was little Mowgli with the python again.

"Beth?" It was more of a whisper than a spoken word, and she had to look back up at him, but he noticed that she kept an emotional distance.

"Fine! Here it is! And if you're trying to hypnotize me—stop it!"

He simply smiled and shook his head, 'no.' Then he watched her try to figure out where to start with the questions.

"I feel like—everything is messed up somehow! When Josh came over tonight, it felt strange to even be with him! Why does my life feel as if everything changed today? Did you do something to me when you bit me? I mean more than just take my blood? I know—I sound crazy—I just don't know what I'm feeling and I'm so confused." She sighed and flopped back against the back of the sofa, looking, Mick thought, terribly cute all wrapped up in that quilt, peering out from under it.

However, there it was—the elephant in the room—and Mick had no intention of telling her how deep this bond between them went. Maybe someday he'd explain it, but not now. Not when she was upset and this was all so new—both to her AND to him! But how could he explain it without telling her the whole truth? He looked up, as if beseeching the Universe for help. When he spoke, it was slowly and deliberately.

"I took what you offered me, and I'm grateful. I'm sure what you're feeling is simply the aftermath of all of the drama today! This has to be a lot for you to comprehend, but Beth—please don't worry—things will seem better in a while."

He hated lying to her, but telling her the whole truth would be even more cruel, in his mind. He wanted her to go home and get some sleep tonight. Besides, maybe she would feel better tomorrow. It was possible.

She was not appeased. "I feel like I'm going crazy, Mick—I mean, I didn't want to be with Josh tonight because I only wanted to see you! And I know this sounds like I must be losing my mind, but here I am, in your place, and even though I haven't known you very long, I feel so. . .so. . ."

"Drawn to me," he finished the sentence for her. "You feel as though we're two opposite poles of a magnet that are trying to connect."

"Exactly! You nailed it! So what's that about, Mick? I really have to know!"

Mick watched her eyes flashing like strobe lights hitting a disco ball. She was really upset. The trouble was, as much as she wanted answers, she wasn't ready to hear the truth, not yet, anyway. He saw that she was breathing fast, and he could hear her heart galloping in her chest. Worse, he heard the sound of her blood coursing through her veins, and that brought back the vivid memory of her taste. She was beautiful when she was mad, that was fur sure! He stifled a low growl in his throat and forced himself to be civil. His eyes closed as he regained his composure, and he wondered how it would be with her from now on--would he always want her as badly as he did right now? His words, again, were slow and measured when he spoke:

"You're not crazy, Beth. I think maybe it was a shock to your system to lose so much blood today. Really, you need to rest and drink plenty of fluids. I'm sure you're going to feel better tomorrow."

She scrutinized his face, but saw only the face of her friend. She couldn't discern anything false in his words, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "You think this is just blood loss? Really?"

He nodded. "I do—you're definitely feeling the effects of giving blood today. Go home and get some sleep."

"I suppose that might explain why I feel so cold, huh?"

"That would be my guess." He looked so reassuringly at her that she felt her icy-cold fear melting into warm little puddles inside of her, drowning most of the anger and fear at the same time.

"Well, thank God!" She fell back onto the sofa again, fear replaced by vast relief, which rushed through her like a spring melt.

Mick watched her, thankful that she believed him, though he knew it was only a matter of time before she would again demand to know what had happened between them today. He hoped she'd wait until he could figure out how to adequately explain about the intimacy and the blood tie that had been formed between them. Considering that she had a boyfriend she loved, he figured this would not be welcome news. He bent his head over and rested it on his hands, elbows on knees, contemplating again how he had complicated her life—maybe forever—and for a moment he again wished she had done as he asked and left him in the motel. He cared about her, and nothing about this situation felt right.

Beth sat up and looked over at him, seeing how the dark curls of his hair caressed the back of his neck, and she had an inexplicable urge to reach over and touch them, wishing she could run her hands through his hair, to feel the shape of his perfect head beneath the silken strands, and she trembled with desire for something she hadn't expected she'd want so badly. She held her hands together tightly under the safety of the quilt, but shook with longing as she watched him, not knowing he felt the same strong pull to reach over and take her hands in his, then to enfold her once more in his arms.

When at last he looked back up at her, she clearly read sorrow in his expression.

"What is it, Mick? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I'm sorry—I never meant to do—what I did today. I never wanted it to happen like that, and I'm just feeling—really upset that you had to go through it. I wish I could undo it, but it's over now. Try to forget it. Try to forget me."

"I can't forget you! Now more than ever I feel—I don't know—I feel something! And why do you say that you wish it hadn't happened 'like that?'"

He watched as she remembered the scene in the motel bathroom, saw the dawning of recall in her eyes, heard her breath intake sharply before she spoke the question. He wanted to disappear very badly.

"You said 'not here, not like this' when we were in the motel, and I really don't understand that. What did you mean, Mick?"

'Oh no!' He had hoped she wouldn't remember, but this was Beth, and she seemed to have a memory that would put his laptop to shame. But no way was he going to explain to her that usually biting happened during sex! He had to think fast. The look on her face was pure confusion mixed with the expectation that he'd clear this up.

"I must have been out of my mind, Beth. I think I was hallucinating! What I meant was that I wish I hadn't had to take your blood. It's. . .well, frankly. . .it's embarrassing, and I never wanted you to see me like that!"

She saw shame in his expression and wished she hadn't asked him about it. "I'm sorry, Mick. I didn't mean to make you feel worse. . .forget I asked." She reached over and placed her hand on his back in an attempt to make amends. She knew he hated being a vampire, and now she felt ashamed for making him embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Mick, but please, don't make me promise to forget you, okay? I can't. You're my friend, remember? I like the world better with you in it?"

He sat up, looked at her, saw that she felt deeply sorry for upsetting him, so took her hands in his. "You should go back to Josh. This has been a tiring day for both of us."

"But I don't want to go back to. . ." ooops! She caught herself right before she let him know how confused she was right now about Josh! Oh, wow, that was a definite blunder—she sure didn't want to let on how she was feeling right now! He was looking into her eyes in such a way that she felt consumed by him and at the moment, that's what she wanted as well. To fall into his arms and melt with him. She had to swallow hard to be able to speak. "I mean, I don't want to leave you until I know you'll be all right," she ad-libbed. "You looked so sick out there in the desert, and really, I came over to check on you—to be sure you were all recovered."

Mick had to keep the smile that threatened to break out to himself. She had almost admitted her ambivalence toward Josh, and that somehow made him feel warm all over! But it wasn't good for HER, and that's what was ultimately most important. Her, not him. He tried to feel sorry about her confusion over Josh, but couldn't.

"I'm just fine, Beth. I came home and had some more—to drink—had a shower—now I'm a hundred percent A-OK!" Now he smiled at her.

That smile of his--it took her breath away! She knew she was in trouble, and it was bad trouble, but dammit all, she liked how it felt! "Well, I'll have to say that you look just. . .well. . .perfect. . .ah. . .perfectly healthy again. She felt her face flushing and tried to look away, but he caught her chin with his hand.

"Thanks. You look perfect to me as well. You saved me today, and that's no small thing, and maybe we're feeling a little over-grateful tonight." He was trying to diffuse the situation, but not having a whole lot of confidence in his ability to do that.

"Yeah, you saved me from the crazy professor, and now I saved you. I guess in some cultures, that would mean we belong to each other, somehow, you know, saving a life and all."

She was now furiously flushing and felt a tiny flash of anger when she noticed that he looked amused as his eyes crinkled in the corners but kept a hold on her gaze and wouldn't let go. She found herself almost whimpering with a need to say more, but kept her mouth closed so she wouldn't get into this any deeper than she already was, and that had to be at least up to her armpits! Completely mortified, she thought she sounded like a babbling teen-ager in love with her teacher!

"Don't be embarrassed, Beth. I know the feeling. I do owe you. Do me a favor, will you?" He took both of her hands from her lap and held them inside of his own very large, strong, capable yet beautiful hands.

She cleared her throat, which felt like it had at least a pound of sawdust stuck in it. "Sure—what can I do?" she managed to croak out. Gosh, he looked so intently at her that she couldn't catch her breath, so she simply held it, waiting to hear what he'd say next. She felt pretty sure she'd do whatever favor he asked, and that made her blush all over again! DARN! His smile, as he looked into her very soul, was sweet and tender, and he squeezed her hands and she thought for a second that she was falling head over heels in love with him. But that was ridiculous, her mind told her, and she didn't know who was right—her--or her mind. This was SO confusing!

"What Mick? Just tell me." He held her hands and looked into her heart.

"Be sure Josh is the man you want. I know you love him, but figure out if he's exactly who you need and want. If you ever aren't sure, come back to me, okay?"

She was dumbfounded and this time she really couldn't breathe. Honestly—she couldn't take a breath. She wondered if she'd die as she opened her mouth and tried to talk—or breathe—and failed at both, so she simply held his hands and watched as his lips opened again to speak to her, the soon-to-be dead Beth Turner.

"I simply want to be clear here—I want the best for you, Beth. Someday I'll tell you more about what happened today, but for now—don't ask. I can't tell you. But for your life, don't make decisions based upon what you think you _should _do—decide what's best for you and go after it. I'll be here for you, whatever you decide, but be sure he's the man you really want, Beth. That's all I ask."

All she could do was nod and reach for her glass of water. He squeezed her other hand and let her go. She drank a swallow and then began breathing again, so she sat panting like an overheated dog, holding her water, blinking back the mist of tears that were coming from some part of her she hadn't yet met. All he wanted was what was best for her—whether or not that best included him. It was just about the sweetest thing a man had ever said to her! She rose and handed the quilt back to him, searching his eyes and finding only affection and genuine friendship there. She picked up her purse and keys and felt him following her to the door.

"I'll walk you to your car—it's late."

Again she nodded.

He walked her to her car and all the way there, neither of them said a word out loud. He opened her door for her, then shut it after her. When she had buckled in and started the engine, she rolled her window down and put her hand in the opening, watching as his came down on top of hers. They looked into each other's eyes once more, holding the gaze, speaking to each other without having to say a thing. Then he took his hand away and waved, smiling that little special smile she loved so much.

She pulled away from the curb and pressed the gas pedal lightly, watching him constantly in her mirror, hating that his form grew more and more distant as she inched forward. She felt acutely alone as the distance between them grew. Even a block away from him, she could still see the strength and power in his long, lithe body, and for a second she allowed herself to feel the heat she'd felt when he had held her; and she shivered now as she drove farther and farther away from the source.

She waved a hand out of the open window and saw him wave back, though now he was almost out of sight. She watched until she could no longer see him, knowing he could still see her, and somehow that fact comforted her.

Heading back to her apartment, she turned the car heater on full-blast and tried very hard to picture Josh holding her close, but now the picture wouldn't form in her muddled brain, which was full of Mick, full of the feel and the smell of him, full of the desire to be near him.

She sighed and turned on the radio to distract her from her thoughts, and she hummed along to the haunting melody of Mazzy Star's "Into Dust." The song, along with the emotions of the day made her think of life and how tentative it was, and how quickly it could be over, turned to dust. Warm tears sprang to her eyes. Mick might have died today, and how would she have dealt with that? Life was too short to squander even a moment—Mick was right to ask her to be sure it was Josh she wanted to be with. She tried again to imagine Josh close to her, holding her as Mick had this night, but the more she tried to see him clearly in her mind, the more he seemed to be fading out of focus, and she felt her world tilting off of its normal axis as her mind formed a clear picture of the man who now occupied her thoughts and filled her with longing, and that man wasn't Josh. No, it was Mick St. John, and that, she had to admit, was a problem.


End file.
